Four of us, including Peter, waited in the car to cross the flash-flooded river. My frustration at being only a few inches from him, yet unable to do more than make small talk, was unbearable. Since I met him, I had wanted him to screw me, but circumstances ruled it out. The project was a veritable hothouse of rumours, and I had to keep a tight lid on my feelings.
Peter, although only young, was quite a big fish by any measure in the small pond of the project and was an object of envy. Management had hired him to look after a very specialist function, and because of what he discovered, it unintentionally assumed a huge and prolonged importance. He ran his part of the project in an exemplary manner, and I found out, did much more than his contract stipulated, which went down very well.
His training of the local staff to take over from him was about to end, and after writing an interim report, he would return to his office near London. I was planning to visit the UK and stay in a hotel near his office, but how to communicate this to him?
A few weeks later, I was at an outdoor party at the project. I saw Peter in the shadows under a tree, and I worked my way around the party to join him, using the tree trunk to provide cover.
In a naughty and provocative mood, I took his arm.
“Peter, I will miss you when you leave in a few weeks.”
“Isabella, it’s the same for me.”
“Peter, do you live near your office?”
“Yes, three miles away.”
There was no-one in earshot.
I said, “I am visiting the UK in two months. Will you be in the country?”
“Yes, and we must meet.”
“Of course, and I can’t wait.”
He gave me a company card with his office address and telephone number, and asked me for the name of my hotel, writing it on another card.
“When will you arrive?”
“On the fifteenth of June.”
“Isabella, when you arrive, please call my office during working hours. Why don’t we join the main gathering?”
Someone saw Peter approaching and spoke to him. No-one seemed to have noticed our brief meeting under the tree.
I flew to London, arriving as planned. The next morning I called his office. “We can talk, because I’m alone in my office. At last, our dreams will come true!”
“Peter, when can you make it?”
“Between six forty-five and seven pm, depending on the traffic.”
“Perfect. It will be wonderful to see you.”
I was on cloud nine, hoping my dreams would come true.
The weather was perfect for a long walk by the river, and I treated myself to a fish lunch, bought some vitamin E pills and six toffee bars. Blood sugar level matters so much during sex. I was impatient to be with Peter, and my pussy turned somersaults.
The soft luxury of the hotel suite, with its view of the city lights, enthralled me. My nervous anticipation of the relief of my sensual denial excited me and raised my heart rate.
I heard a knock on the door.
“Peter?”
“Isabella?”
I let him in, and the fine hairs on my arms stood up, a reaction to my long wait. His hands settled on my shoulders and kneaded my tense muscles.
“Isabella, tonight, there are no distractions and no crowd watching our moves. Please, focus on your desires, here, with me.”
A shiver of delight ran down my spine!
“I’m ready for you, sir,” the title felt both foreign and correct.
“Please, there’s no need to call me sir. You look wonderful in that beautiful robe. It’s a new moon, so we should make a wish.”
He led me over to the window, and I lowered the lights and dropped my silk robe as we stood looking out over the night and the rising moon in the east.
His light grey eyes, which had witnessed stormy weather so many times despite his youth, held mine. He had been a generation younger than anyone at his level of enormous responsibility on the project, and there was jealousy. I had seen him silently face difficult situations with grim determination. Here, in this private space, the power he wielded was of a more intimate nature. It was a power I would willingly hand over.
He took my hand and led me away from the view of the glittering city, toward the foot of the king-size bed. He sat, the mattress dipping under his weight, and guided me to stand before him. His gaze was a physical touch, trailing over my partial nakedness.
He didn’t touch me further, but looked his fill, his eyes darkening with a possessiveness that made my knees weak. “The panties too.”
My fingers trembled as I hooked them into the delicate lace and pushed them down my thighs, stepping out of them, in an exhilarating sense of exposure and vulnerability.
He took off his clothes with a dexterity and speed that amazed me and sat on the bed.
“Over my knee, Isabella.”
This was it. Peter had constructed this fantasy, and I thought he transferred it to me telepathically. My movements felt clumsy as I lowered myself onto his solid thighs. The position raised my bare bottom high in the air, a blatant and submissive offering. My cheeks burned with a blush that had nothing to do with shame.
His palm rested on the crest of my right cheek, warm and heavy.
“We do this because you and I need it. For you, it will be the start of a voyage of sensuality and mild submission to me. I will use it to teach you the ways of power exchange. You will count each hand spank and thank me for it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” with my head in the bedspread.
“Please don’t call me sir!”
The first spank was a test, a firm, crisp crack that landed with a startling echo. A sharp sting blossomed, slowly increasing in intensity. I gasped, and my vagina was soaking and stirring into motion.
“Count,” he said, his voice even.
“One, thank you, sir.”
“Isabella, your memory fails you, but your bottom will benefit!”
The second landed on the same spot, a little harder. The sting intensified, a bright, clean pain that was already beginning to morph into a throbbing heat. “Two, thank you.”
He began a slow, rhythmic pattern, alternating cheeks. Each impact was a shock to my system, a jolt that chased every other thought from my mind. There was only the sound of his hand spanking me and the heat in my rump. The pain built steadily and drove everything else out of my mind.
He paused, his hand smoothing over my hot bottom cheeks. The gentle caress was almost more agonizing than the spanks, a tender promise amidst the punishment. I could feel the heat radiating from me.
“You’re taking this so well,” his voice thick with approval that warmed me as much as any spank ever could. His fingers traced the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, making me jump.
“So beautiful to see your bottom pink and warm for me, and your pussy crying for me!”
He delivered a final, sharper volley of spanks, each one landing with precise force just below the crease. I cried out, my count dissolving into a moan as the sensations crashed over me, the sharp sting melting into a deep, throbbing pleasure that pulsed in my vagina and in time with my heartbeat.
Peter stopped, helped me over onto the bed and said, “Kneel on the bed and I will pleasure you.”
There was a hunger in his eyes matched only by my anticipation of the orgasmic pleasures that were bound to follow. He eased my legs apart, placed a hand on the small of my back and eased my torso downwards, elevating my bottom. He could see me exposed for our pleasure, and my pussy reacted strongly, almost to the point of a mentally induced orgasm.
I felt him slide back the hood of my clitoris and take the glans between his tongue and teeth of his upper jaw. No-one had ever done that before, and it felt like an electric shock.
He licked me slowly, and I felt him insert a finger into my vagina where he felt for my G-spot. I would have died of heart failure had I not been in good health, as in my life, I had experienced nothing like it.
“Peter, you angel! Please, I’m ready.”
He slid his erection into me and screwed me in a slow and steady rhythm, thrusting deep into me to stimulate my clitoris. I wasn’t aware of anything other than Peter screwing me, the overwhelming sensations in my vagina and perineal area, and my nipples, which were like bullets! My vagina gripped him in pulsating orgasms, and I experienced a floating sensation, as if gravity had stopped. He was a strong young man and remained hard within me for an age. The experience had triggered an old memory, and I wanted it to last forever.
His powerful erection was not a surprise, because I had once been in a group of wives that went on an organised visit to the waterside during the working day. He was doing something to one of the marine units, and wearing shorts, which left little to the imagination, and revealed his erection, which came on immediately he saw me. I remember having the crude thought, “I want some of that.”
No man can sustain an erection forever, and we lay there in each other’s arms, and I was oozing small tears of joy after my first wonderful orgasms for many years.
“Peter, I hadn’t had sex for five years until today. When you first arrived at the camp, I hoped somehow we could start a relationship, but it was impossible. “
“Sure. It wasn’t easy for me. There was a lot of jealousy of me related to age versus my position. Many eyes watched me, and like Caesar’s wife, I had to be beyond reproach, so I avoided confrontation and got on with work.”
“You certainly did that by all admissions, but how did you keep sane?”
“Every so often we took a long weekend, and I would cross the border where things are easier, and have a rendezvous with a girl looking for a ‘friend with benefits.’ Not perfect, but better than nothing.”
“How did you know I would take and enjoy a spanking?”
“Your submissive attitude a few weeks ago got me guessing that you would take and enjoy a moderate hand spanking. I know what often went on in home and school environments in SE Asia and surmised that a spanking wouldn’t be your first.”
“That’s right! It was far more severe than what you did tonight, and it included caning, which was normal back then.”
My pussy was in spasm as I talked!
With a feline look on his face, he stroked my cheek. I was shaking with excitement!
“Please tell me more about what went on in your youth?”
“At home, it was always my mother, and once I was sixteen, she would bend me over a dressing table in my bedroom with panties off, and cane me. The canings, though very painful, were an enormous turn-on for me. I was last caned when I was nineteen, and I got ten hard ones across by bum from my mother. She saw my juices running down the inside of my thighs and never caned me again.
“An hour later, I would be alone in my bedroom with a solid glass goddess image, in a rod shape. It took the place of a dildo, and with my fingers on my vulva, I would have multiple orgasms. I learned the erotic effects of a bidet spray, so I was no angel. My mother knew, but said nothing. At school it was the headteacher, panties on, over her desk, and always six strokes of the cane. My canings at home were much harder.”
Peter said, “My last caning was eleven years ago (he was twenty-seven) and I fantasise about a girl caning me as part of sex. Please, would you like to think about that?”
This was a new fantasy for me, and I almost came as I thought about it! The talk about caning had aroused me, and the spasms in my pussy grew more intense, and I had to control my breathing! He had earlier talked about ‘power exchange,’ and now he suggested I could cane him! Yes, I could do it! Whilst we lay there, Peter had been fondling my mound and vulva. I expected to be sore inside from being well screwed for the first time in years.
“Peter, your amazing performance tonight felt like a tiger doing me, but I’m out of practice and my pussy needs a day to recover. We could have a caning session, if you have suitable canes, and I’m happy to cane you, naughty boy!”
“I can get some canes in time for tomorrow night, if you are serious about it?”
“Yes. If I don’t have more sex tonight, I should be in good shape tomorrow. I have not stretched my pussy in years.”
I could not cope with the thought of him returning home only a few miles away and leaving me alone, and I fought a brief battle with my conscience and lost.
“Peter, would you like to stay the night, or move in while I’m here?”
“Isabella, I hoped you would ask! I need to go home, close the place up and bring some clothes.”
“You do that, and I will arrange matters here.”
Peter got dressed, left to collect some clothes and was back within the hour. He found me propped up naked on pillows on the bed, with a towel under my bottom, in a classic erotic position. I had adjusted the lighting to produce the seductive air of a boudoir!
“Thank you so much for making me feel like a real woman and for being the soul of discretion on the project. May I ask you a very personal question?”
“Of course.”
“When did you first realise that I had my eye on you?”
“Not long after I arrived, during a party in the hot weather. When I came out of the bathroom, you squeezed my arm and gave me a lovely smile. I wondered also, on that day when you came to the waterside, if you noticed you had given me a raging erection?”
“Yes, I did, and so did another wife. She said, next time, we warn them so they don’t wear tight shorts.”
“Isabella, would you like me to shave you?”
“Yes, please. I’m not very good at doing it.”
“We can do it with you on the bidet in the bathroom.”
This must have been partly a ploy to see if I would sit on the bidet in his presence, and it worked. As he shaved me, he asked questions about sex in my marriage, etc.
“I got married at twenty, and the first one came along when I was only twenty-one, and number two when I was twenty-three, so I’m not much older than you. Henry would not spank me, and we didn’t spank our children, and I have missed it all my married life. He seems to have lost interest in sex, and sometimes I wonder if anything interests him outside of his work, so I don’t feel guilty. He’s not very interested in what I do here, so don’t worry about him turning up.”
“Isabella, that’s a good thing. The children are less likely to grow up with a spanking kink. How did you feel about being caned.?”
“My canings at home were always of the disciplinary variety, and my mother did it hard, leaving marks that took three weeks to fade. I hated the pain at the instant of the caning, but half an hour later, I loved the erotic sensations in my genital area, and it helped me accept the caning, because I loved the afterglow.”
Whilst the shaving went on, Peter was keeping me stimulated with a finger on my vulva. It liberated my whole being, and it was impossible to hide its effect on me!
“At school, it was less painful, and I didn’t find it humiliating because it happened to all of us. The only problem was stopping myself from grinding my caned bum cheeks together while on a hard wooden seat. This gave me an orgasm that I couldn’t hide, because it left a damp patch on the wooden seat. They had expelled two girls for doing that, so I had to control myself and wait to get home to enjoy my hot bottom.
“I have watched plenty of spanking videos. Many are just brutal, but I like the more artistic and erotic variety, which give me ideas to pursue! I don’t want my skin cut or serious bruising. With a moderately thick cane, I could handle twelve strokes, and it would be best if we could mix them with oral or sex, whatever.”
“Isabella, I’ve given you a neat Brazilian. Would you like your reward?”
“Reward for what?”
“You have been very patient while I shaved you!”
“You did it gently, and yes, I want my reward!”
He turned on the vertical spray, and I positioned my vulva over it, letting him play with my clitoris as the water ran! No man had ever done that, and if he had not steadied me, I might have fallen off the bidet as ecstasy reduced my sense of balance and control.
He was kneeling on the floor beside me, and I grabbed his head and smothered him in kisses!
“My love, that’s enough. Turn it off before I shake to pieces.”
Peter eased me forward on the bidet and kissed my vulva and clitoris. Why had I waited so long for this innocent pleasure? After drying myself, I walked naked in the darkened room over to the window. Peter stood beside me, his calming and solid presence maintaining my sensual turmoil.
I said, “Tomorrow, I will get some exercise and fresh air, and be ready for our pleasures.”
“I have freedom in the office, and I will go to London in the afternoon to an emporium with a range of sex toys and buy what we need.”
A wave of tiredness swept over me. Good sex is the best sleeping pill in the world,…